


Fighting for a Better Tomorrow

by love4books



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love4books/pseuds/love4books
Summary: Beth has survived through unlikely odds, but suffers from memory loss. Daryl and family are safe in Alexandria. But Daryl's grief over the loss of Beth consumes him. Soon the pair will meet, their fate once again intertwined, but both have obstacles they need to overcome before they can recover what they once meant to each other. Rating may change for future chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

So this is a story I've posted on FF but I wanted to also share it here. There are edits to the story since there were parts from the original that I decided I don't like and don't want to continue writing in the story so if you're someone who had previously read this story, there are small changes that will lead to bigger ones, in the end, so   
I recommend reading this version! To the new viewers, I hope you enjoy my take on the Bethyl story~ 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I sit by the fire as small droplets of rain begin to fall, sending spirals of smoke into the air as the water sizzles into non-existence from the heat. I shiver as the rain lands on me and I wish in that moment for the warmth of the fire to consume me as well. 

I continue to stay planted by the fire since I have nothing else to shield me from the upcoming storm. Soon it’ll be gone and I’ll be left alone.   
A slight warmth casts over my body and I break away from the trance the dancing flames put me under to find a blanket draped over me, shielding me from the rain. I peer up and startled to remember that I’m not alone. 

For ten days, I was my only company. Then my savior came and proved to me that all life is indeed precious. I nod thanks at the man before saying, “Take the tent.” I turn to return my gaze at the flames; the fire dwindles from the constant downpour that suddenly spews. “Come on, we can both fit,” he says motioning me inside.  
We clamber on into the tent, the sound of the storm strengthened as it shakes our measly shelter with the whipping wind. “Morgan…” I begin to talk, not really sure as to what I want to ask. So instead of finishing it, I grab ahold of my pack and rummage through until I find the berries I picked today. I grab a few for myself before I push the rest over to the man. 

He smiles brightly at me, “Thank you, Beth.” He eats graciously, savoring every last one. At first, meeting Morgan was a blessing. But as he took care of me, I started to become overwhelmed by his gratitude for every single event that crossed our path. He isn’t necessarily religious, but he believes in a higher power. A higher power that I honestly lost sight of while I wandered alone through a world where I believed to be the last human alive.   
That is until I ran across the walking dead. 

Zombies.

Ready to tear the flesh off my bones with their ragged teeth and claw-like nails scraping against organs without relent. Whoever put me in there I have no recollection of. Whether they were friend or foe. My scars are the only reminders of the past life that I lived. Until Morgan came into the picture I had no one. And even after he was here, helping me recover from the wounds I obviously sustained, I was wary of him and his glowing positivity. 

I couldn’t understand how anyone could still hold on to hope when we’re not only running from the dead, but also from the living. Humans, in the mist of the apocalypse, have turned on each other. It’s all about survival of the fittest. Morgan and I travel in the cover of darkness for we are just two people. But even then he remains smiling and uplifted. 

Not long ago we ran into a herd of dead ones just after a larger group of people forced us out of our safe house. Their guns stayed pointed on us until we finally made it into the surrounding forest concealing us from sight. “They were nice enough to let us live,” Morgan said, but I don’t think he realized they just sent us into the waiting arms of the dead, hoping they would rid of us so they didn’t have to get any more blood on their hands. 

Now sitting in this tent, watching Morgan once again pull out the map he’s always hanging on to, I can’t help but ask, “Morgan…” He looks towards me and I point at the map and ask, “What you keep looking for?” 

He smiles again, plopping another berry into his mouth before saying, “We’re not going to be alone for much longer, Beth.” He hands me the map. “You can count on it.” Down on the map is scrolled a message, “Sorry, I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world’s gonna need Rick Grimes.” 

  -§-

I sit on the deck stairs of the house we now call home, cigarette dangling from my mouth, relishing in the quiet of the morning. We arrived at Alexandria yesterday, my family finally safe, but as I take a drag of smoke, looking down the deserted street lined with houses bigger than necessary, I have to wonder if all of this is too good to be true. 

I flick the ash, watching it flutter in the breeze. Shit hasn’t been good for a while. It seemed like nothing good was remotely close to coming our way. Before running into the guy named Aaron, we were a total mess. 

The days seemed longer than usual, but that was because we were barely trudging along through the endless heat, dry skies, and foodless forest. But the hunger pains and parched throats was nothing compared to the agony that I still don’t fully understand. The one that nags at me every day, constricting my chest with an ache so painful I can barely breathe. It always leaves me craving a cigarette to shoo away the goddamn memories of the girl that we lost.   
The girl that I lost. 

These thoughts are what lead me to where I am now. Isolated, not even bothering to sleep inside that house. Not that I sleep after what happened. I shake those thoughts away, not wanting my nightmare to plague me while I’m awake. 

I haven’t let myself feel it since that day I wandered alone, slowly being consumed by the darkness the ebbed its way slowly around my heart, twisting and pulling demanding to be felt. So I finally let it all out… with searing pain as I took my cigarette and held it against the top of my hand. 

The pain had to be released somehow. 

But still, physical pain wasn’t enough.

After that, I let it all go. Grieving over what I lost. Shedding tears with choking sobs. Finally letting my sorrows be explored that have fogged my vision and clogged my thoughts, reminding me repeatedly of my failures since her death. 

Failing Beth… No. Not now.

I inhale more smoke, thankful for the distraction. I refocus my thoughts back onto this town and the concerns that have followed me since entering.   
Being here is all too strange. Too sudden. I don’t do well with this sort of shit. I feel like I’ve been transported back into time seeing these people walk around like the apocalypse never happened. Like the world didn’t end months ago and crap like book clubs, parties and jobs aren’t things from the past. How they’ve survived this long is beyond me. 

As I take one last drag of the cigarette, my eyes flicker to the wall that surrounds the area. Oh yeah, they got lucky. They have an architect who put up walls high and strong enough to keep walkers at bay. But eventually, everyone’s luck runs out.   
I toss the cigarette under my boot, extinguishing it with a stomp. I stand to grab ahold of my bow when the front door opens. “Mornin’,” Rick says as he closes the door quietly. It’s still early, the sun still not fully raised over the horizon. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Mhm,” I answer with a nod. I toss my bow onto my back and start heading down the stairs. 

“You think we got a shot here?” I glance over my shoulder at Rick who looks at me expectedly. I wish I could give him an answer, one that will sway him into whatever direction he needs, but I can’t. Everything has become so god damn irrelevant. I don’t want to deal with the politics anymore. I’ll leave it to someone else cause’ the last time I was in charge someone I cared for died. 

So instead, I shrug my shoulder, “ I guess we’ll find out.” I turn away, knowing I left him disappointed. I feel his stare on me the whole walk down the street so when I take the left towards the entrance of the wall that leads outside, I feel my burdens start to fade away in the distance along with Rick. I try not to look too eager as I slip out the entrance and walk into the woods like I’m greeting an old friend. 

I have come accustomed to the chaos that surrounded me after the prison was destroyed. Being in there, I feel utterly trapped. Trapped in a cycle of useless routines. Cause’ walkers don’t care if you made it this far or that you have solidified a position in a community. They’ll rip apart anything that bleeds.   
In the woods, I’m in control. I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. It’s just me with my bow, hunting instead of being hunted. Alone, I can take on walkers without the pressure of taking care of another. Because when it comes to my family, I’ll always put them before myself. But even sometimes that isn’t good enough.   
So I roam in the woods alone. I track what seems to be another possum. I smirk at the thought of bringing another one into Alexandria. I think I would even crack a smile if everyone looked as horrified as the first time when I hauled one over my shoulder like it was an accessory.

I make it to a small river, skinning the possum that I finally caught up to when I hear some rustling to my left. I immediately grip my bow, arrow at the ready. The rustling grows louder from the nearby bushes and I take steps closer ready to strike. “Please, don’t shot me, Daryl.” Aaron steps slowly out of the bushes, hands raised in surrender. I sigh and drop my weapon, staring at him aggravated before returning to my possum. 

“I wasn’t following you,” Aaron says while following me over to where I continue skinning my meal. I lift an eyebrow up indicating my thoughts and he halts his steps, letting out an airy laugh. “Well, now I am. But I wasn’t…” He fumbles with his words.   
“I know you weren’t following me. Alexandria that way…” I point east. “You came from the opposite direction.”   
He stares at me before smiling. “You really know you’re way around.” I shrug my shoulders, finishing cleaning up my possum. 

“You can track animals too?” His smile broadens, obviously knowing the answering seeing me skinning one. I ignore him, placing the possum aside while I begin to build a fire. Aaron continues to stand and stare, unnerving me. “Well? Are you gonna gawk at me all day or…?” He seems to break out of his daze.   
“Oh, jeez! Sorry. Ha,” He begins to walk back to Alexandria, “Daryl…” I look at him when he shakes his head and just says, “I’ll see you later.” As he leaves, I try not to think about how weird he was acting. But he obviously had more to say. Out of everyone in the safe zone, he seems to be somewhat aware of the dangers that lurk. But now I’m thinking he’s just weird. 

I go back to building a fire, the day now bright. I picture everyone getting ready to take on their assigned duties, all worthless in the grand scheme of things and eventually be nothin’ but bad memories to remind you that life is a pile of shit.   
I spend the whole day out, just roaming the woods. When I finally run across a walker, it hits me. I stare at the walker, reminding me of the seventeen days after… after Beth was killed. 

No one attempted to talk. We were barely dragging along through another hellish day. We were hungry, tired and miserable. We blended in with the walkers. Just movin’ along with no destination. Just hopin’ to run into someplace with food. No hope, until Aaron came and restored everyone’s fate.   
Except for mine. 

I’m still here, walking among the dead. Because ever since that goddamn day in the hospital, getting Beth back then having her violently ripped away like some twisted joke that the universe wanted to play on me. That bullet may have hit her, but I slowly bleed out each day. Every thought of her, that bullet digs deeper into me, painfully pushes me farther away from everyone and closer to her. I died that day right alongside her. And I’m not coming back. I can’t come back from it. 

-§-

The nightmare comes right on schedule. 

I blink until my vision clears, only to reveal darkness. There seems to be no air in the confines of the space I lay. I move cautiously, my neck straining from the weight of my head. My left temple throbs at the slightest movement making me lightheaded, but I manage to lift my head. It knocks against a metal surface and my stomach drop. 

I scream bloody murder. 

I only experience the start of the nightmare before Morgan is shaking me awake. It’s hard to hide my nighttime scares when I share this miniscule tent with him. Sweat drips down my back, even though the night is crisp and the wind howls through the storm, shaking the tent or maybe my shivering is rattling the tent like my teeth. I have to take a minute to catch my breath. “You’re alright,” Morgan states. 

He never pushes me by asking questions. He knows well enough of the horrors I have lived. I’m even more grateful when I nod my head, assuring him I’m okay and he simply smiles and lies back to sleep. I lay down too, turning on my side curling into myself. In the beginning, he would talk to me, assuring me of all the things that I feared aren’t actually there, but he eventually learned I don’t need preaching, I just need to know I’m not alone. Overall my nightmares, being alone is the one thing that I fear. Yes, my nightmares haunt me. Flashbacks of my past, that I don’t remember happening to me until I do. But as I remember some things, I seem to allude to all the people I’ve ever encountered. 

How I’ve gotten to this point, lived through a bullet through the brain, climbing out of a trunk into a horde of walkers, surviving on my own for days immensely wounded, are unimaginable. But I made it. I have many scars to prove it. And the nightmares too. But looking past it all, I fought like hell to be here. There must be a reason for me still being alive and I think it has to do with whoever left me. There’s never faces in my dreams or flashes of memories, but whenever a moment is remembered, I feel an immense ache in my heart to reach out and cling to the image of the fragment of my imagination.   
From the start, I suspect others gave me comfort and were always they for me to rely on. I close my eyes willing the memories of the people I was with to spring forth, but I’m left disappointed. I obviously had a family at one point? So what happened to them? Were they with me to my last moment or did I lose them way before this all started? 

I blow out an irritated sigh, flopping onto my back with arms crossed over my chest. I listen to the rain as it pummels the tent. The moon shines brightly through the fabric, making the world seem less haunting as it lightens the woods around us, giving us a better vantage point from shadows that may emerge from the nearby forest. Rocks uncomfortably dig into my spine that’s already sporting bruises, but I don’t mind the pain. It reminds me that I’m alive. 

I turn my head to face Morgan, already peacefully asleep. I smile, cause I envy his ability to take on the world. He’s faced difficulties too, but he fought past the demons that pulled him towards a destructive path. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here. The wind whips louder, a rip in the tent leaking with rain. The sight of us to anyone might be sad, but to me, I’m lucky to have someone by my side. 

But that doesn’t stop my ambition to discover the past of mine that is doing everything to elude me. I look down at the packs at our feet where the map of Morgan’s sticks out. I sit up and silently remove it opening it again to inspect it. Rick Grimes. The name for whatever reason sounds familiar and someone found him to be useful and it seems Morgan wants to find him. Hopefully whoever this Rick Grimes is will point us in the right direction in this place we’ be able to call home. 

I wake early to prepare breakfast. The rain has stopped, leaving the ground damp, but the air smells of freshly mowed grass putting me into a good mood. I hum as I work, collecting the bottles of water we left out in the rain to collect more water and place one next to Morgan who still rests. I go through our packs finding a lacking supply of food. 

We have some canned beans and peaches, berries collected off bushes we found yesterday and a squirrel Morgan caught. Not nearly enough to last us past today. We’re going to have to go on a run. I try not to worry. Instead, I open the peaches and toss some berries right into the can since we don’t have any plates. It takes me some time to start a fire for the sticks I collect are as wet as the ground, but I manage a small one enough to cook half of the squirrel. As it’s cooks, Morgan emerges from the tent. He brightly smiles before chugging from the water bottle. “Thanks for this,” he motions at the drink, placing the cap back on. “And you’re making breakfast! I’m being spoiled.” He sits beside me, with a sigh as I pass him the can of peaches and berries. I’ve eaten my half so I motion for him to eat the rest. He takes it gratefully. 

We sit in silence as he scoops up some bites but then he places the can on the ground to pull out the map. “We’ll be heading to Washington, D.C. We’re not far off. A little over a week or so.” He tilts his head towards the sky where a few gray clouds linger, “If the weather holds up, that is… and other factors.” I nod, not caring where we go as long as it’s to safety. Morgan has kept us alive so far and I trust his judgment to lead us in the right direction. 

If only my memories would return… then maybe I would have some inkling towards the path I'm supposed to follow. I sigh, drawing a look from Morgan. But I ignore him as I flip the squirrel, cooking it thoroughly. “The reason why I want to go to Washington… well, it’s because I have a friend there.” He holds out the map, pointing at the name, “Rick Grimes is a friend. And a man with a plan.” He stares at the map smiling as if it holds all the answers, “It may not be much, I know. But I have a good feeling about Rick.” I nod my head, not really grasping his meaning. How can one man be so important? 

I reach for the squirrel, now cooked, and wait for it to cool before splitting it with Morgan. As I prod at the squirrel to make sure it’s is cool enough to eat, I huff out a deep breath before tapping Morgan on the shoulder, “Here, Morgan.” Morgan takes it gratefully but savors each bite as he inspects our packs and the empty pockets. As he licks his fingers and disappointingly views his empty hands he says, “It’s time to go on a run.” 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Well, I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if your thoughts by reviewing! It's much-appreciated ^^


	2. Chapter 2

“This place looks good,” I point in the direction of a local mart, its exterior looks fairly put together, but clearly has been swept through by the masses. We’ve been walking now for six days from the crack of dawn until the suns last bit of light seeped away making room for the stars. Morgan expects us to arrive to Washington in four days. The weather didn’t hold like we predicted, so we had to make some detours, but eventually, we got on the right path.

Morgan and I take out our knives, our guns remain holstered as ammo is low and only for emergencies. The entrance door is off its hinges, lying flat on the floor, the glass shattered as if trampled. Morgan bangs on the wall to draw out any dead ones that may be lurking. None come so we enter and begin searching for anything useful. 

We diverge, taking opposite ends of the store to cover more space in a smaller amount of time. We’ve been really unlucky in terms of supplies since every store, market or house we’ve come across has been picked clean of all things that could maintain us on our journey. 

I have to ignore the hunger pains that rip through my stomach as I passed by advertisements of cakes that were once displayed in the store's bakery. I keep an eye out for anything that can suffice as a meal. Every shelf is a disaster of scattered objects, empty wrappers of people so desperate they ripped the packaging open on the spot and dust to show how long it’s been since anyone’s disturb this place. I try not to take this as a bad sign. 

Shuffling sounds from the aisle beside mine. I jump, knowing that Morgan is always careful and alert enough to keep from causing any noise. So I cautiously peer through the shelves, expecting to be met with a grab from a dead one as it tries to tear at my flesh, but instead, I see a man. 

The man doesn’t see me. I take careful steps back, making the effort to keep from alerting the stranger of my presence, so I don’t notice the display before my back slams into it, sending sunglasses flying, clattering loudly. “Shit,” I mumble as the man makes himself noticed by walking into my aisle, but he doesn’t attack like I anticipate. “Morgan!” I call, urgency, unmistakable in my tone. On edge, I grip my weapon drawn in defense, “What do you want?” Fear constricts me, paralyzing me in place, making it impossible for me to act with a level head. 

“Please, I don’t mean to frighten you…” The man steps closer and I don’t dare take my eyes off of him. “Beth!” Morgan comes up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder, drawing me behind him. I mentally kick myself at my cowardice. 

“If you’re looking for supplies, we don’t have any to give. That’s why we’re in here.” Morgan says. The man, now taking him in without panic coursing through me, I see he doesn’t look like much of a threat. He’s a normal height and doesn’t sport any visible weapons and his hands are raised to seemingly indicate he means no harm. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.” He looks in my direction. I merely stare showing indifference, my confidence once again intact. “My name is Aaron. I have good news.” 

-§-

I’m scrounging the woods again, only this time I’m on the lookout for anyone seemingly worthy of joining our band of survivors in Alexandria.  
A few days ago, I ran into Aaron once again as I lurked in the surrounding woods near the safe zone. He talked, while I mostly listened. He eventually told me of a party being hosted in honor of our arrival. 

“Let them get to know you,” he suggests. 

I immediately scoffed, showing my disinterest, “I got nothing to prove.” He drops the topic and we continue on like nothing happened.  
A while later, I passed by Deanna’s house where the party is, but I don’t go inside. No way in hell am I prepared to be swarmed by a bunch of strangers. Strangers who will ask questions about things that ain’t none of their damn business. So I walk on by. I'm strolling down the street when suddenly and porch light flickers on, "Daryl! Hey." I turn to see Aaron strolling out of his house, a grin growing on his face. I halt my steps turning to face him confusion.

“I thought you were goin’ to that party over there,” pointing at the house, lively with talk and music. 

“Oh, I was never going to go cause of Eric’s ankle, thank god.” 

“Why the hell did you tell me to go then?” 

“I said try. You did. It’s…uh… the thought counts thing,” he says, smirking. 

“Alright,” I answer dismissively, turning to leave. 

“Hey. Come in, have some dinner,” his head nods in the direction of his house. I don’t respond immediately, showing my reluctance. Although both Aaron and Eric are nice people, I still ain’t use to making the effort of friendly conversation with others. The last person who I let in was Beth and we’ve seen how well that went. “Come on, man. Some pretty serious spaghetti.” 

He turns to head back into his house, leaving the door wide as an invitation to enter. But I get hung up on the words, “Some pretty serious spaghetti.” Flashbacks evade my mind, all moments of time spent with Beth. “It’s a serious piggyback,” I say to her after she’s too injured to walk on her own. I swallow, shaking slightly from the sudden bombardment of her memory. So I quickly rush in after Aaron, hoping that being around others will help once again suppress the memories back into the deepest depths of my mind where they belong. 

Aaron was not kidding about that spaghetti. I slurp it down with no sense of manners, the cravings for something other than possum or squirrel, making my senses relish in the taste. 

I just finished eating, wiping my mouth with my napkin when Eric says, “Oh! When you’re out there if you happened to be in a store or something, Mrs. Nutermeyer is really looking for a pasta maker and we’re all really trying to get her to shut up about it…” Eric continues speaking, but I look up over the glass of wine I’m drinking suspiciously at Aaron, who is trying to send signals to Eric to stop talking. “If you see one out on your travels, it would really go a long way…” Eric finally looks at Aaron, suddenly realizing the tension. Eric looks back and forth between my wry expression and Aaron’s, fully grasping the situation. “I thought it was done. You didn’t ask him already?” Eric asks, directly looking at Aaron. Aaron shakes his head staying silent. 

“Ask me what?” 

Aaron brings me into his garage, where I’m greeted with the sight of a bike in the process of being repaired. I unconsciously move forward inspecting the parts in a desire to be the one to bring the bike back to its former glory. “When I got the place, there was that frame and some parts of equipment. Whoever lived here, built them,” he says, motioning towards the bike. “It’s a lot of parts for one bike,” I observe. 

Aaron looks sheepish as he answers,“Whenever I came across any parts out there I brought them back. I didn’t know what I’d need. I always thought I learn how to do it, but I get the feeling, you already know what to do with it. And the thing is… you’re going to need a bike.” 

I stop wandering around then, turning to directly stare at him wanting to get to straight to the point, “Why?”  
“I told Deanna not to give you a job because I think I have one for you. I like you to be Alexandria’s other recruiter. I don’t want Eric risking his life anymore.” 

“You want me risking mine, right?” I turn my back to him, pretending to be interested in the tools down by my feet. 

“Yeah, because you know what you’re doing. You’re good out there. But you don’t belong out there. I know it’s hard getting used to people getting used to you and I understand you need to be out there sometimes so do I. But the main reason why I want you to recruit is that you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person.” His words ring through me, setting off an echoing of similar words I heard, “There are a still good people, Daryl.” The image of Beth floods my vision and I have to blink her away to focus back on what’s real. 

Aaron waits for my response, and it doesn’t take much for me to realize that I’m going to do it. This is what she would have wanted. I was going to tell her that day in the funeral home that, yes, there are good people and she was a shining example of that.  
“Well, I got nothin’ else to do. Thanks.” I shrug it off, but in reality, for some reason, I feel like as much as I want to keep the lingering thoughts of Beth away, this opportunity is one step closer to being the man she saw in me.

So, I’ve decided to dedicate myself to this. Its something good, maybe it’ll help me see past all the bad that has made me blind with grief. Enough to distract me so I can get through a day without feeling like there’s no meaning to anything anymore. 

I need something like this to keep my mind busy and on a mission and just maybe on the way, I’ll restore the hope that was expanding while with Beth. As much as it pains me to think of her and remember how much I miss her, she was the first person to ever prove to me that life isn’t about the bad as long as you look at it from every perspective. So I’ll do this. I’ll do this for her. 

-§-

We didn’t believe him. 

Not at first, at least. We stared at him with clear distrust after his little speech, letting us know about his community, formally known as Alexandria. He told us it’s safe, with food and shelter, full of people who were brought in, just like we would be. 

But as good as it all sounds we didn’t believe, couldn’t believe such a fate was being handed to us after keeping clear of others like the plague. There doesn’t seem to be many good people out there anymore. They’ve all either been turned to the dark side or the wickedness of the world overtook their kindness. Then he showed us the pictures.

He passed Morgan and I each half of the stack. I shuffle through mine, my doubts flipping away with each image. Impossible, yet it’s all here. I shake my head, not knowing how to take this all in at once. The walls stand protectively around the community, there’s a picture of the supplies they have stocked along with weapons, houses that are for the residence. Unbelievable. 

When I get to the last picture, it’s of people. As I stare at it, warmth blooms from my heart encasing around me like a blanket. These people… they all look so happy. Each and every one of them looks comforted by those who surround them. They look… like a family. 

“Beth…?” I look away from the picture towards Morgan who called me, to feel a tear drip onto my cheek. I blink in surprise, more tears shedding. I briskly wipe them away, not knowing why I’m reacting so strongly to a picture of strangers. 

Aaron steps forward, peeking at the photo I hold, “That’s actually a picture of the most recent group we’ve let in.” Morgan gently takes the photo from me to inspect. “They may have been the best group of people, all very ambitious and loyal.” 

“Oh, my.” Morgan holds the photo closer to his face. As he spots something a fuse is lit, sending sparks of laughs that shatters the silence.

“What is it?” My curiosity peaks, as this is a side of Morgan I’ve never seen. I don’t know whether to take it as a good sign or if it’s him officially cracking.  
He holds the photo out so I can view it and he points at a man, “That’s Rick,” he lets out a short laugh throwing his head back in disbelief. I take in the man, sporting a thick beard, cradling a child, while the other is slung around the shoulder of a boy that must be his son. Morgan laughs again, “What’d I tell you, Beth?” He throws an arm around me, tugging me into a hug, “We’re not going to be alone any longer!” 

-§-

We stay in that store for the night, Morgan filling Aaron in on how he knows Rick. It’s the first time I’m hearing this too, and I try to listen, but I continuously keep getting distracted by the photo with Rick. Aaron told us Rick is the leader of the fourteen people in the photo and they’ve all transitioned into the community well.

We’ve built a fire inside a garbage can, concealing the flames from anyone who may pass through. The flames light flickers across the picture, and I take in each face, feelings of tenderness tugging at my heartstrings. How beautiful to know that all these people have gone from strangers to a family. Maybe there are still good people out there, people who haven’t let the world harden them, encasing them in a shell of resistance, forever fighting against others in order to keep themselves protected.

The firelight shifts, directing my eyes upon a man standing in the far left corner of the picture, crossbow hanging off his shoulder, scruff lining his chin, brown hair hanging in his eyes. His image is dark and he looks like shouldn’t belong. He’s not looking at the camera like everyone else. Instead, his eyes are on the people next to him, showing the love and protectiveness he has for them. It’s absolutely beautiful. 

“I’ve been watching you two for barely a week, but it was enough.” My head shoots up, pulled back into reality. “The way you two care for each other, lend a helping hand in the tasks that you do and having each others back is remarkable.” He gives us a small smile, “We would be happy to have you join us in Alexandria.” 

Morgan grabs my hand giving it a squeeze and I pat his, showing my approval for the opportunity we have luckily been given. I look at Aaron, “Thank you.” I hold his stare, hoping with every fiber that he understands how much he’s helping us. He gives me a genuine smile, but his eyes slide to my forehead, where he gets a clear view in the light of the flames of the bullet scar. I unconsciously raise my hand to it and his eyes fall, sheepishly. “…Sorry, I…” I shake my head, showing him I’m not offended. Since I’ve been with Morgan, he’s been preparing me for when the time came on how to deal with people’s questions about how I sustain such an injury and lives to tell the tale. “It’s…okay.” I move my hand away, letting him view it, “I don’t know how it happened.” 

“Memory loss from the trauma,” Morgan adds. 

“It’s a miracle.” Aaron looks at me, an expression I don’t know how to decipher, but for some reason, it makes me proud. He doesn’t seem to be looking at me in pity for what I’ve suffered but instead is taking in the strength it took to for me to be sitting in front of him. 

In that moment, I trust him. If he can look past the image that I so clearly have as being the damsel in distress then I know that joining him in his community is the best move for us. 

A sudden crash, sounding from the entrance of the mart draws all of us into a fighting stance, gripping our weapons. I grab the bag of dirt we got from outside, throwing it over the flames, darkness engulfing our position. We all await an attack so when a dead one comes into view, it doesn’t take much for it to be brought down. 

But then the herd comes. 

One by one, bodies limp into the mart. I quickly grab my pack, hoisting it over my shoulder before driving my knife into the skull as a dead one comes lunging. I hurl it off me, pushing it into others that were coming closer, giving us more time to collect our things before we’re rushing off down the aisle to the back. 

The store is overrun in seconds, the silence ripped violently open by the constant chorus of moans and growls, making it hard to figure out which way they are coming from and where is safe. “Over here!” Morgan motions us over to the break room for employees. We scatter in but suddenly Aaron’s jacket is tugged, pulling him back into the cluster. He fights to break away but the walker… walker? 

I shake the confusion of the sudden nickname away, driving my knife with enough force to slice the hand off the walker, setting Aaron free. We slam the door shut, locking it tightly as possible and blocking it with furniture to delay their entrance. They scratch and bang on the door, it rattling from the overwhelming weight, as walkers must be piling on it. 

Morgan has already busted the window open. He brushes glass off the window sill, signaling me forward, “You first, Beth.” I do as he says, shimmying through the window to safety. Aaron comes after then Morgan and we sprint for our lives, the moans growing fader with each stride. 

-§-

I ran into a man sporting a red poncho, only to lose him after being swarmed by a sudden group of walkers. It doesn't take much to take them down, but it’s enough for the man to be long gone. I try to track him, but I can’t even seem to found anything to actually let me know that he was really there. 

If Aaron was here we could have gotten to the man, tracked him to see if he was fit enough to be recruited. But he told me he trusted me enough to make good decisions. So he went one way and I the other, planning to regroup if anything calls for it. For now, we’re covering more ground, waiting to stake claim to anyone who seems to be a good candidate. 

I listened without complaint, cause’ as much as I have come use to bein’ around him, I relish in the silence that comes with being alone. When surrounded by others, I constantly have my guard up, obscuring anyone from figuring out the thoughts that weigh me down. 

I can’t look weak. And that’s how I feel constantly. I have to be the guy everyone knows. After losing Beth, I have lost my ability to make myself void of emotions. I tried to keep the wall I built secure, but each step away from her makeshift grave, away from the girl who made me understand life in a new perspective, dissembled that wall brick by brick. 

I don’t think I can ever make people forget that. They saw me at my worst and I’m still not even close to being back to the Daryl at the prison. Everything that I came to know through Beth haunts me. I want nothing more than to forget, but at the same time, I want to prove to her that I believed in her. 

Her beauty came with the knowledge for life. No matter the situation, she kept positive, always radiating her worth, while I could only watch in amazement. It’s my time to make an example of all that she believed in. I will not let that die with her. I will continue her legacy. She deserves that much and it’s all I can do to repay her for bringing forward the best in me. 

I walk ahead, feeling better about the things I failed to do. But then I see something ahead of me, putting me on edge. I lift my bow, preparing for an attack, but as I near, I lower it.

Strung up to a trunk of a tree is a walker. She has a small build. She has blonde hair. Her head is bowed so her face isn’t visible. I hesitate to reach out. But I walk closer, touching the hair, gently lifting the head to view the face. I let out a sigh, turning away for a moment, collecting myself.  
Of course, it’s not her. I couldn’t be her. 

I look back at the girl, to see a W etched onto her forehead. This isn’t the first walker, I’ve seen sporting a W and I don’t know what to make of it. I drop the girl’s head, hesitating before I leave. Should I leave her like this? There’s nothing else I can do for her, I think. I turn away, feeling the weight of Beth’s memory heavier today than usual. 

I move on, hoping to quickly get away from all the dread that suddenly came with the appearance of the corpse. I don’t want to remember Beth like that. So as I go, I recall the glow in her eyes and her smile and her fierceness when it came towards something she was passionate about. 

I said before that I died alongside Beth that day, but her attitude would never go into such a dark place. Instead, I’ll say that as long as I live, Beth will continue on. She will always be around as long as I am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for checking out the story! The next couple of chapters are all previously written so I will be posting them frequently :) Look forward to it!


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron luckily had a car parked nearby enough, but far off from the herd for us to jump into, leaving behind any more run-ins too big for us to fight through. I sit back into the leather seat with a huff of exhaustion. All my energy has been drained away, leaving my eyelids heavy.

As my head lulls to the side, I realize exhaustion also come from the fact that it’s late. The blacken sky is clustered with a few stars, not enough to illuminate our surroundings with their glow. The moon is hidden behind the cover of clouds, making the evening eerie as the car zooms past trees, with shadows that resemble what we’re running from, sending a shiver up my spine. 

Morgan twists around in the passenger seat, handing me some water. I eagerly take it, chugging from the sudden thirst from our unexpected late night run.  
“Thanks, I need that.”  
“A little more excitement than we intended, but we made it.” I give him a small smile. Always the optimist, Morgan is. I meet Aaron’s eyes in the review mirror, “You saved me back there. Thank you.” I direct my smile towards him, too tired to talk. As we speed off, the steady hum of the car as it moves lulls me further under unconsciousness. The quiet descends over me until I drift away into darkness. 

“Shit…” I stir out of sleep, eyes blinking open, adjusting to the morning light that has begun to filter back into the sky. I sit up, tucking my unruly blond hair behind my ears, to see the car is no longer on the move. Aaron and Morgan are both blocked by the hood of the car that’s open, but I hear them talking since the passenger door is wide open, “There’s no fixing this. Damn radiator.” Aaron says, slamming the hood closed. 

Morgan sees me then, no longer being obscured by the hood, “Beth.” He walks over to the back seats, opening the car door and I make my way out. “Looks like we’re walking.” We all shuffle in different directions collecting the stuff we managed to grab before escaping last night. Aaron is picking up his backpack when he says, “Don’t worry, we’ll reach Alexandria in two days.” We all then begin the trek into the direction of our safe haven without a glance back. 

-§-  
Something’s wrong. 

I leave Eric, more worried than I was before. I should have known visitin’ him would only add more anxiety to my already worried state. God dammit.  
It’s been too long for Aaron’s been gone. He usually comes back straight away if there’s no sign of anyone. But now that he may have found a candidate, I picture how we treated him when he first came to us. I cringe as I picture Rick punching him unconscious. 

I should have gone with him. Should have insisted, but instead, I was only focused on myself, selfishly grieving over something long lost. And now I may have lost another friend. 

I head into the woods, ready to take off in the direction Aaron left all those days ago. I’m almost through the gates when a shout draws me to a stop. “Daryl!” I glance over my shoulder to see Deanna trailing after me. I warily gaze at her not knowing what she wants, “Another day exploring?” She asks finally reaching me.  
“Yup,” I say not looking at her. My body faces sideways ready to bolt away from the women whose stare seems to uncover all my inner secrets.  
“I know Aaron’s not back, but there’s no need to worry. He’s safe.” I pivot slightly in her direction, curious as to why she seems so assured. She gives me a knowing smile, “Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Her head tilts in the direction of the woods, a signal to let me know I can leave. I willing go, only nodding to indicate I understood her. 

Back in the woods, I search for the man in the red poncho, coming up short every time I think I’m close to his location. With each failure of losing this possible member makes me disappointed. But I continue to scourer through the vast land in hopes of running into anyone. 

By the time night falls, all I’ve run into were seven walkers, a bee’s nest, and birds. Another day, another failure. I just hope Aaron is having more luck than I. 

-§-

The trip towards Alexandria is no walk in the park. We’re to reach it in two days maybe less, but under the glaring rays of the sun and only enough water to last us a couple of hours, we decide to make camp. Our bodies are still weak from hunger, except for Aaron whose seems to be fairing better than Morgan and I. 

I swipe my hair into a ponytail, the strands sticking to my face from sweat. We all begin doing separate jobs. Morgan collecting firewood, Aaron begins to take inventory of our supplies and I tell them that I’ll search in the woods for any water that may be nearby. I empty my backpack of everything but the four water bottles we have and head off. “Don’t go too far, Beth,” Morgan warns me. I give him wave with my knife hopefully giving him some relief to know I’m not unarmed and prepared for anything. 

I let out a content sigh as the shade conceals me from the sun, giving me much needed relief to the sunburn that has developed on the back of my neck. I take in the woods where thick canopies of leaves that have dried out from the lack of rain. Fallen trees and roots mingle on the ground, making the trek an obstacle course. As I head further in, the sound of flowing water eventually becomes apparent. I can’t help but smile at the thought of water so I rush forward, eager to fill the water bottles to the brim. 

The stream isn’t big, but it flows steadily, probably pooling into a large source of water. I step forward, inspecting it, hoping it’s okay to drink. I kneel down, shrugging off my pack to pull out a bottle. I take the top off, dunking it into the stream, laughing to see the water come out clear. I take that as a hopeful sign that it’s good to drink. I immediately chug, the refreshing water, effectively cooling me down and making my once dry throat, no longer rough from lack of drink. 

Water drips down my chin, the cool of it on my skin, making me stop drinking to dump the rest on to my head. My eyes close, relishing in the waters coolness. A crack of a twig makes me come alert, the water bottle slipping out of my grasp into the stream. I take hold of my knife, clutching it tightly as I scan the surrounding area. Nothing hints to any movement so I tell myself to relax. I stand and fetch the water bottle that began to drift down the river. As I pick it up, I hear muffled groans.  
I stiffly straighten, suddenly on edge. My knife is once again at the ready and I steadily step forward in the direction of the noise. It’s a subtle sound, so low that the flowing of the stream was enough to cover it, but as I step around fallen twigs and avoid crunching dead leaves underfoot, I realize why the cries are so silent. 

There in front of me, tied to a tree, is a man, barely alive his mouth covered with a tie to muffle his screams. He bleeds profusely from the neck. That’s when I realize this was a recent attack. The man sees me, his eyes wide with shock. He gurgles, blood pouring in a constant flow out of his wound as he gargles out, “Run.” His neck rolls to the side, his eyes still open but it’s clear he’s dead. I stumble back, shock at the sight keeping me from screaming in horror. 

It isn’t until I hear footsteps, so I scramble to take cover in the surrounding bushes. As I break out of the clearing two men come into view. They’re both filthy, sporting long greasy hair that doesn’t seem to have been washed in weeks. Then I notice their foreheads. I squint my eyes to see W’s etched in their skin, scabbed over and flaking. They take in the dead man, all smiles. They’re too far away for me to hear what they say. But it doesn’t matter because they don’t speak much. 

Instead, one pulls out a knife, the sight of it making me reflexively cringe back in fright. The bush around me rustles, drawing the men to look in my direction. I stay as still as I can, the knife in my hand shakes violently and I have to will myself to keep my breath even. The two are skinny and tall but they’re clearly a threat. I don’t even let myself relax an inch as they turn away redirecting their attention on the man who just bled to death. The one with the knife steps forward, placing the knife’s tip against the man’s forehead where he begins to carve a W. 

Blood pools from the cut, dripping down the man’s face. The two, step back inspecting the work, whispering more, before searching the man’s body and finally leaving. I don’t know how long I stay in that bush, afraid for the men’s return. But then I hear shouts of my name, “Beth!”

I blink away from the man’s body that is still tied to the tree. I slowly leave the cover of bushes and move towards the sound of my name. I retrace my steps back to the river, where I see Morgan crouched over my abandoned pack, Aaron searching the woods nearby. “Morgan…” He rapidly turns, his features softening at the sight of me unharmed, but as he sees me trembling, he comes over to me. “What happened?” 

I take them to the body. Morgan lets out a heavy sigh as I tell the story, my voice wavering every so often due to shock. Aaron goes over to the scene of the crime, where he stares for a moment. “I’ve seen this before.” He points to the W on the forehead. He turns back to me, “Did you get a good look at them?”  
I nod my head, “They had W’s on their forehead too.” Morgan lightly takes my shoulders, turning me away from the body. The image of him bleeding out will forever be embedded into my memory. We bury the man. We can at least do him that justice. 

We head back to our camp, too close for comfort to where the murder happened. It makes no sense, humans doing such damage to others. The man was alone… but at least he didn’t die alone. I can only imagine the fear he felt. Although the scene will forever haunt me, I hope that my presence helped him not feel alone in his last minutes. There’s nothing worse than being alone when you fear for your life. 

I can feel both Aaron and Morgan staring heavily at me throughout the night, but I don’t make any notice to subdue their unease. I’m not very good at hiding my feelings. And after what I just witness, it’s too much to keep compressed under tight surveillance. “I’ll take first watch,” I tell them, the pleading in my voice apparent for the distraction. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep after that. 

Neither of the men protests. They make themselves as comfortable as they can on the hard cold ground. Morgan stare lingers a little longer before he tucks himself under the extra jacket we had. I continue to lean against a nearby tree. The light of the fire only reaches so far, leaving the surrounding woods dark with unseen horrors. I shiver, the sudden drop in temperature shocking to my once sweaty body. 

I don’t relax until some time passes, but as the moon hangs high above my head, and the woods stay quiet, I pull my pack to me, rummaging carefully in the front pocket to pull out the picture of Rick and company. The sight of it gives me much-needed comfort. I imagine my life once we reach Alexandria. Their influence is already shaping me so I can only imagine what it would be like to be among them. Would they accept me into their family? I smooth the corner of the picture that began to bend, my hand brushing over the man with a bow. Yes, I think they’ll be more than willing to let me become one of them. Morgan talks about how Rick helped him, maybe they’ll help me too. 

Slowly, the possibilities of the future overcome the flashback memories of the man and those who killed him. I stay there alert all the while picturing myself amongst people that I can finally call family. 

I stay awake the whole night, not bothering to wake either man to take over the watch. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Too long have they consumed me, dragging me further into a pit of endless despair. I no longer wish to dwell on the facts, which only contain terrible happenings in my life. 

Seeing that man, I felt terrible. Staying hidden to protect myself. In this life, it’s all about staying alive. But I don’t want to just survive I want to live. I wish to take the bad head on, to not let it disintegrate me into sorrow. I grasp the photo of the people at Alexandria as if it’s lifeline. Hope isn’t far. I will not give up until we’re all safe. I’ve survived this long. Getting to Alexandria is when I will finally live. 

A breeze caresses my cheek, drawing me to look up. The sky is a soft shade of pink; the grey’s slowly fading to make room for morning light. The fire we’ve built is dwindling, only the embers still alight. As I tend to it, readying it to cook our last bit of meat, Morgan stirs awake. It's taken him awhile to clear the fog that covers the mind from sleep, but as he surveys the sky, he rockets up. He twists to face me, “Beth? Why didn’t you wake me?” 

“You needed sleep,” I simply state. He looks at me a bit too long, clearly worried. I stop fiddling with the fire and turn towards him, “I’m okay. I just needed to think.” He fusses over me anyway. Ordering me to step away from the fire, and maneuvering me into his spot, telling me to rest. I laugh, at his babying but oblige as I realize how extremely drained I actually am. I lay down, Morgan taking off his jacket to give me as a pillow. I take it thankfully, cuddling up in the comfort of the warmth that still clings to it. In moments I’m asleep. 

-§-

We’re off once again; for once I’m motivated to move on, the weight of my worries no longer pushing me back. Aaron tells us more about Alexandria, keeping me continuously anticipating our arrival. 

The heat of the day isn’t even enough to stop me from being optimistic. I’m constantly asking Aaron all the questions that have been circulating in my mind since we’ve met. How many people are in Alexandria? Where does everyone stay? Will I get a job once I’m there? Will Morgan and I stay together? Do you think they’ll like me? Aaron laughs at the last one, “Oh, Beth. I think you’re the easiest person to like.” I smile at that, glad to hear that since I have been feeling quiet unfriendly lately. “One more day. Will be there soon.” 

Night comes fast, but my mood is still elated the closer we get. Tomorrow, we’ll be arriving. Finally, I’ll have a place that’ll hopefully be someplace we can stay long term. We spot a car, abandoned on the side of the road. We decide to use it as a campsite, setting up a fire and putting our stuff in the car each person getting a spot to sleep. 

We play rock, paper, scissors to see who’ll get the backseat. Aaron wins, and in triumph, he lets out a cheer to celebrate. I laugh and Morgan pretends to be upset. It’s a nice scene, each one of us more chipper at the knowledge of closing in on our destination.

I take the driver's seat, since I’m the smallest and won’t be as scrunched as Morgan would be with the wheel. The last image I see before falling asleep is the stars that shine brightly through the sunroof. I dream of what must be Alexandria. For everyone from the picture is there. 

They all greet me like an old friend with hugs and pats on the back. Then I come across the man with the crossbow. He stares at me, eyes boring into me but not really seeing. I start to speak, but no sound comes out. I wave my arms, trying to capture his attention, but he merely looks right through me. I frantically turn back to those who just acknowledged me for help, but they too just stare through me like I’m nothing. 

Then suddenly I’m in the trunk. “You ain’t ever goin’ to see them again!” The words echo in an angered voice, filling the claustrophobic trunk. Above me the metal top of the trunk is see-through and I can only watch as walkers scratch and claw at my only source of protection. They pile on top of each other their weight putting dents into the metal, their nails tearing through it like paper and I’m stuck like a sardine in a can as their hands finally reach me…

I jerk awake, adrenaline pumping my heart into rapid beats. It takes a minute for my nerves to calm down and my blood to stop pounding wildly in my veins. I reach out for the door handle, wanting some more fresh air than the open window allows when suddenly a hard object is pressed against my temple. 

“Shhh.” I stiffen, my heart beating erratically once again. I slowly shift my gaze to view the threat. One of the men with a W from yesterday presses a gun to my head, finger at his lips, as a signal for me to keep silent. He opens the car door with silent stealth, motioning me out. My legs quiver so hard, but I remain rigid to keep strong in the face of fear. 

I’m forced away from Morgan and Aaron, the sight of their sleeping bodies the last image I get before the gun smashes into the back of my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, Beth! Just when she was so close to her family! Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger, but then next chapter will be posted promptly ~ Stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

Aaron is back.

I’m up in the guard tower, taking over a shift for Sasha who has been AWOL as of late. I don’t mind being on guard though and in fact, hope to do it more often.   
I first spotted movement at the edge of the woods, some distances away from the gate. I jumped up, pulling the rifle I have at the ready. But it’s only Aaron. He looks towards the guard tower, signaling that’s it him. I drop the gun, sighing in relief. 

I have to keep my happiness down, not wanting to show how extremely frustrated I was at his long disappearance. He waves as he sees it’s me and I nod in his direction. I go running, thinking about alerting Eric of his boyfriend’s return, when I see someone emerge from behind Aaron. 

I squint, bringing my hand up to block the sun that obscures my vision. Out from behind him emerges is a man who looks haggard and worn as he leans against a walking stick. Aaron pats the man on the shoulder, talking to him intently. He motions him to follow him to the entrance. I look away, throwing my bow over my shoulder going to meet the pair. So that’s the person who kept him gone for so long. 

The guard at the gate opens it for them and I’m barely to them when Aaron comes over to me, pulling me aside. “I have to go back out… but I need you to join me.” He motions the man to come forward who does cautiously. “Where’s Rick?” He asks, startling me. I look at Aaron waiting for some clarification. 

“We’ll get him.” He says to the man, before facing me, “This is Morgan. I found him a week ago. He was with another…” He pauses taking a breath, “She disappeared. We don’t know where, but there was a sign of a struggle. Our camp was ransacked, all our supplies taken…” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for me to understand that they believe she was taken. Aaron nods his head in Morgan’s direction. “He knows Rick. Where is he?” 

We head off into the direction of our house, all of us ignoring the stares from the other residents at the sight of a newcomer. I hear Morgan and Aaron murmuring to each other; clearly, Morgan is in distress as he talks, “We have to go back out as soon as possible. We have to.” I glance at him, seeing the wrinkles on his face scrunch even more as his eyebrows knit in concern for his missing companion. 

We reach the house, heading in through the front door. “Rick!” I call out. Noise clatters from the second floor before footsteps sound as he descends the stairs. “Daryl?” I try not to notice the surprise in his tone for seeking him out first. It’s been a while since I’ve willingly begun a conversation with him or anyone for that matter. “You got a guest.” I go to lean on the nearby wall as he breaks into view, seeing me first before his eyes fall on Morgan. He freezes, one foot still resting on the last step. “M-Morgan?” His head tilts to the side in confusion, but he continues forward in wonder, “How?” Morgan smiles, meeting Rick halfway, the two embrace in a short hug. 

“I found a map with your name on it and a circle around Washington, D.C. I was heading there when we… ran across Aaron.” Rick looks around the room confused, “We?” 

Aaron steps forward, “There was another, a girl. Beth.” I whip my head up at the name, shrugging off the wall, “What did you just say?” Anger laces through each word, spitting more venom than necessary. Beth? No, I couldn’t have heard right. It’s my damn thoughts once again forcing themselves to the surface at unsuspecting times.I squeeze my nails into the flesh of my palm, hoping to snap myself back into reality.

Aaron glances around, clearly flustered from my sudden outburst, “…Beth. Morgan was with her. Blonde girl with blue eyes, small but a fighter.” 

I feel the world spin. I’m rocketed off-kilter, thrown in a fire of burning question by the words Aaron says. I pace around, probably looking like a cornered animal, before pouncing forward, grabbing him by the collar holding my prey with an unrelenting grip, “What the hell are you sayin’ about a dead girl?” My voice raises with each word, drawing Rick forward, “Daryl…” His hand falls upon my shoulder, but I harshly shrug him away, “Beth’s dead!” Aaron doesn’t push me off, only looks at me in bewilderment. 

“Beth is very much alive.” I don’t pull away from Aaron, but I turn my head in the direction of Morgan who looks at me curiously. 

“You know nothin’ bout her.” I fling Aaron away, ready to take my anger out on Morgan. I know I'll regret my anger later, but all of this is too much. This ain't real. It can't be. I feel my nails return to my palm and I wonder why the pain isn't helping. 

“You were the ones. The ones who put her in the trunk, aren’t you?” I stop moving as his words throw me yet again in a direction I wasn’t prepared for. Rick steps forward then, “It can’t be…” He looks at Morgan, his eyes questioning all the things I desperately strain to ask, but words are failing me. My mind is a bustle of pictures flipping through countless memories, trying to figure out how this could be anything but a dream. 

“The bullet wound… in the head, of course, you thought she was dead.” Morgan looks at us sympathetically. “But she’s alive. She made it.” My thoughts are swirling in a whirlwind of chaos. Alive? No, she was dead. I held her in my arms, felt her cold lifeless body, and looked at her pale skin from the loss of blood. “Why don’t we sit down,” Aaron instructs, understanding the gravity of the situation. Everyone does expect me. I now remain motionless, the news sending me into a catatonic state. 

Morgan explains how he stumbled upon Beth. He was heading to find us after finding the map left behind. He found a cabin to rest in for a short time when a girl barged in. She was scared, alone but still fought against him when he made himself known. He got her to calm down enough to show her that he meant her no harm, eventually easing her into accepting him. 

He described how she refused to talk or answer any of his questions about herself but when she eventually did realized she wouldn’t answer because she couldn’t. “The injury wiped her memory. She doesn’t remember anything before waking up in the trunk”. My nails break through the skin on my palm, but I push harder, deserving the pain. We left her alive… encased alive with a wound that could have been treated in a trunk of a car like garbage. I slam my fist into the wall, drawing stares, but no one says anything. If we stayed, made sure of her fate, then everything would be different.

I’m fuming with self-hatred. I left her. I didn’t do a damn thing to make sure that she was alive. I let myself be blinded with anguish to the point where I even let that keep me from saving her. Fuck. I lean my back and head against the wall with a thump, staring at the ceiling with my jaw clenched, trying hard to keep my rage in check. We left her alone.

I’ve never hated myself more than in that moment. 

“She was with us. But now she’s gone and we have to find her.” Morgan says. He looks more worried as time passes and I can even see through my inner turmoil that he cares for her. I’m grateful for him, at least Beth had someone. Aaron speaks again, Morgan too distraught to continue. He tells us how yesterday Beth witnessed someone being murdered by men sporting W’s on their forehead. “We think they might have taken her.” 

I’m out the door before any of the men can react. I remember vividly of the blonde in the woods, carved with a W left for dead. Beth will not share the same fate. 

Beth. 

Beth is alive. And she was coming here. But now’s she’s gone again. 

No. Not again. 

I take off in a run, yelling for the gate to open and the man at it frantically thrusts it open. I barrel through, thinking I will not fail again. 

Beth, I’m coming. 

-§-

I wake to pain.

A nagging throb pulls me from sleep. I groan slightly as I move a hand up to reach the back of my head. A bump prominently sticks out tenderly. That’s when I remember. I sit up fast, the inertia sending my head spinning, keeping me for a minute, useless as my head pounds with a headache so powerful tears pop into my eyes. 

As I regain my senses, I search around for any sign of then men with W's. I’m surrounded by nothing but woods where out just beyond the confines of my makeshift prison, do I see the faint light from a fire. I stretch my neck trying to catch glimpse of anyone, but the trees obscure any chances of me identifying another. I look down at my wrist, seeing them bound by ropes that chafe roughly against my skin. My ankles are wound together too, making it impossible for me to run. 

I try hard not to let panic overcome me, but obviously, my situation isn’t good. Whoever these people are, murdered that man in the woods and they know I witnessed it. Why else would they have taken me? 

Ruffles sounds from where the fire glows and out from the shadows a woman appears. She’s around my mother’s age and walks over with shoulders hunched. As she draws closer, I see her head is adorned with the same W as her companions. 

She doesn’t look at me when she places a piece of bread and water bottle in front of me. I can’t help myself as she begins to retreat away, “Who are you?” She immediately cowers as if I lashed out at her, not even bothering to try and answer. She just flees back to where she emerged. “You won’t get any answers from her.” I fling around, as much as my bindings will allow seeing one of the two men who took me standing behind me. 

He smugly smiles, his greasy hair hanging around him like a curtain. He strides forward, arrogance evidently seen with each movement. “But if you ask me, I can give you the answers you want.” I stare at him, trying to size him up. He seems overly confident in whatever he believes, which is why he seems so open to tell me. And for a second I almost ignore him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but I’m too intrigued. He is after all my capturer and if I want any chance of escaping, I’ll need to know as much as I can about them. “Who are you?” 

He steps out of the remaining shadows and proudly struts as he says, “You’ve seen things, things that weren’t meant for your eyes, but no matter. You’re exactly what we need.” A cold sweat breaks out as shivers crawl across my skin and I stumble on my words as I say, “ What do you need?” He’s before me now and he kneels so our faces are level. It takes all my willpower to not cringe under his scrutinizing glare. “I want everything you have.” He brings his hand up, brushing a lock of hair to gaze at my forehead, “You have scars.” He points his hands to his forehead at the W, “Soon we’ll having matching ones.” 

-§-

I head to where I remember the blonde girl to be, hoping that I’ll found something to help me decipher where Beth may have been taken.   
I run without stopping, finally getting why Morgan was on edge since I’ve seen him. I run knowing that there’s no way in hell I’m leaving Beth alone again. Not this time. 

How much does she despise me? She must hate me. Beth is strong; I know that more than anyone out there. But she needed me and I completely failed her. I left her to fight a battle that she shouldn’t have had to fight alone. 

When I reach the body, I have to keep myself from rushing over to it and checking to make sure that it’s still the same girl. The uncontrollable urge to confirm the unknown haunts me even more so I check and with a sigh of relief at seeing it’s not Beth, do I have the ability to regain my composure and move on.   
Worry continues to pump into my veins shooting adrenaline to course throughout every limb, all ready to spring into action the minute I come across a clue, but the farther I wander and time passes, I realize how futile my effort is. There’s nothing but empty woods and walkers out and about.   
The light has been seeped away from the sky, leaving me under the cover of darkness. I travel to no specific destination, but I don’t stop. I can’t because if I do then that could be the end for Beth. 

Sweat soaks my skin and dampens my hair, which clings to the back of my neck and I have to constantly swipe my bangs out of my face, but my steps don’t falter.   
The constant adrenaline that pumps endorphins through my veins travels throughout my body, keeping any feeling of exhaustion at bay. A few minutes ago, I ran into another one of the slung up bodies. This time it was a man, but it doesn’t give me any reassurance. My mind is reeling as I sprint through the woods. What if I’m once again too late to save her? What if I reach her only to have her once again taken right out of my grasp?   
I know damn well that I will not let her get hurt again. 

Although the darkness helps keeps me concealed from any predators that may be out hunting, I have a harder time finding anything that may be a clue to lead me to Beth. The moonlight is hidden behind the canopy of leaves overhead and only small slivers of light manage to seep through.

As I look around, squinting for any signs of life, I catch a flicker of orange in my peripheral. My head whips back in the direction where I glimpsed the light to see that it’s a fire. A campsite… Beth.

Bow at the ready, I sleek forward ready to take on whatever lays ahead. I slither through the underbrush, hoping that the rustling I’m making in my haste is mistaken for an animal. As I reach the edge of the clearing, I see no one, just the fading embers of a dying fire. I sit for about ten minutes, crouched in a position of attack, but no movement sounds of an enemy and no one returns to the campsite. 

“Dammit” I mumble knowing I may have just missed Beth. I abruptly stand, wishing at this moment for a walker to come out so I can kill it, to get my hands bloodied to release the anger that sits on my chest like a ticking bomb. “FUCK!” I scream, not caring who hears. This shit is all too much. I’m chasing after a ghost, a ghost who even if I catch may continue to slip out of my grasp. 

A ruffle of branches sounds alerting me a second too late. I’m grabbed from behind by two people and another launches out of the shadows a wicked smile covering his face as he punches me in the face showing how much he's enjoying this. I struggle in the grips of my captures, yanking with all my might, I get loose enough from one of the guy’s hold, swinging my fist up into his jaw with a crunch and he goes stumbling into the man who punched me, letting go altogether.

Now less restrained, I fight the only person whose holding me. He’s not as strong without the other and I land a punch easily into his cheek and a kick into the stomach sending him spiraling to the ground. By then the others recovered, grabbing my clothes forcibly pulling me into a death grip strangling me. I make myself remain calm, as I throw an elbow into the ribs of the person holding me repeatedly. They groan but don’t relent, their hold remaining strong. 

A punch is thrown, my eye swelling from the impact. My lungs shudder from lack of air and black spots start popping into my vision as my body begins to shut down. I try to fight, but before I know it, I’m slipping in and out of consciousness and with one last punch into the stomach I’m out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting even more interesting now! Thanks again to everyone who has been so kind to comment, and leave kudos on my story! It means so much to know people like what I am writing! I'll be back with another chapter soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA:  
> There are currently only EIGHT chapters written of this story. With that being said, I'd like to warn you all that chapter updates won't be as frequent! My life is very hectic, but that doesn't mean I won't be writing! I have every intentions to continue this story, but inspiration comes to me at a slow pace when it comes to writing so I hope you all will have patience with me ^^ Thank you~

I finally managed to succumb to sleep in spite of my bound limbs, only to be startled awake by sudden shouts. I sit up fast, my heart in my throat at what is to come. I shuffle into the shadows, the only cover, although useless, to keep my erratic beating heart somewhat calm and controlled.   
Out through the trees, the leader comes striding forward, his followers appearing right after him all wearing expression of annoyance. They drag someone along, another captive, as his chained hands indicate. His head hangs, clearly unconscious. I feel my face scrunch in a grimace at the sight. He has no idea what he’s got himself into. 

His feet drag against the grass, balling up clumps of dirt beneath the tips of his boots. His hair falls limply over his face, obscuring his features from view. The men dragging him seem to be limping, but not from the extra weight and their faces are so dirtied with sweat, dirt and blood, the W cannot be seen. This man put up one hell of a fight. 

Although the site of him is disturbing, I can’t help but feel a rise of hope. I suppress the blooming feelings of safety brought upon by his arrival, yet I can’t hide that I feel better knowing I’m not the only one who has to fight against these people. I now have the chance to make an ally.   
“He’s a fighter," I think to myself. They reach me, flinging the unconscious man out of their grasp with weary grunts, where he falls face first in the dirt. Instinctively, I reach out to catch him, but the rope that keeps my hands useless stops my movements short. He lands with a heavy thud, making me wince. 

I scoot over near him to flip him over so his face isn’t pressed into the ground, but a firm grip swallows my wrist in his viper grasp. “Don’t. He’ll be dead soon anyway.” The leader eyes stare into mine, but I don’t relent under his menacing glare. He lingers a little longer before slowly releasing me and walking to where the others disappeared. 

Left alone, I wait a few minutes before resuming my earlier actions. The skin on my wrist has the leaders fading hand-print mark, a reminder of his words, which only make me want to help the man more. He’s almost out of reach, but I strain against my clutches and with a groan, sloppily manage to flip him so he’s no longer breathing in lungful’s of dirt. 

Though the moonlight is not as bright and the man has a black eye and blood coating half of his face and dirt the other, I recognize him immediately. 

The man from the picture. 

I reach into my back pocket, my shoulder painfully cracking from the constrained movement, but I ignore it as I take hold of the crumpled picture. “It’s really him”, I murmur under my breath in astonishment. There’s no mistaking it’s him. The man with the bow, who stands amongst the background in the picture, but for some reason stands out the most in my eyes.

The small hope that sprouted at his appearance flourishes into determination. He has people who will notice his disappearance. They will go looking for him. They’ll come! I look back down at him and mentally chant for him to wake up. But maybe we don’t need them. He doesn’t know it, but I know about his town. We can help each other escape. No one has to die. We’ll escape and go back to Alexandria where we’ll be safe from these people. We can help each other. Then another thought comes to my mind, promptly pushing against the positivity. What if his place is gone? What if they got to it first and that’s how he got captured? “No”, I reprimand myself. I turn back to the man, ripping the hem of my shirt off and pouring a splash of water on it. Tending to him will keep myself distracted from such thoughts. 

I begin by wiping away the blood that dripped into his eye. There are clear dark circles under them and his jaw is firmly clenched even while unconscious. His forehead is covered in sweat, his hair sticks in matted strands. But through all these imperfections, my heart flutters and a blush rises on to my face. Embarrassed by my rash reaction, I clear my throat, twisting away when suddenly a strong grip wraps securely around my wrist. 

“Beth?” 

-§-

I’m dead. I must be for the fact that I see Beth. She looks as perfect as she has always looks in the dreams that plague me. Even with the newly healed scars scattered on her fair skin. 

But she’s real.

I grip her wrist like a lifeline, which delicately fits into the shape of my hold. The warmth of her skin and the faint pulse thrumming against my thumb is the only indication I need to know that she’s real. 

Fucking real. 

Her brows scrunch together, her confusion placing me back into reality. The subdued pains of my injuries from the shock finally resurface along with why I’m seemingly in the middle of the woods with hands and ankles bound. 

After they attacked, I couldn’t win. I fought my best, thinking of Beth and how I need to live in order to save her. But the surprise attack was just enough leeway to allow them to overcome me. Being knocked unconscious wasn’t a part of the plan, and suddenly seeing her face over mine, I really thought I died. Finally getting to reunite with her after our abrupt separation. 

But through hooded eyes and blurred vision of waking, I caught the slightest glimpse of her cheeks as they reddened with a flush that made my chest constrict tightly where my heart is, the urge to touch her overcoming my senses. My fingers twitched, itching to brush across her heated skin, but she was already looking away, making me pull myself together enough to gain the confidence to make contact. Even now, my hand still grips her frail wrist afraid she’ll disappear into thin air if I lose contact. 

My hold remains strong and Beth doesn’t seem to mind being restrained by me, just looks curious as to why I look so shocked at her appearance. “You’re Beth?” I say hoping to throw off any suspicion that I know her personally. Her blue eyes twinkle with shock as I repeat her name, fully stating it without the clouds of distortions blocking my clarity. She nods slowly her only answer, as her face stays neutral. “Aaron told us about you. And Morgan. He’s safe.” At the mention of her companion, Beth visibly relaxes in relief, closing her eyes as if sending a prayer of thanks for keeping her friend unharmed. 

As I see her innocence once again, her passion and love for others I realize I can’t tell her about us. I can’t tell her about everything from before she was gone, anything before the fatal accident. It will be too much for her to handle, I mean for god’s sake she was shot in the god damn head and then the people that she called family left her without clearly making sure she was alive. I’ve done enough damage to her; I don’t need to spring the truth on her the minute we meet. She should have it come back to her gradually over time in order to heal properly. 

I look at her wrist, which I still hold, seeing it bound. “Shit.” I gently let go of her, the loss of contact too much distant away from her and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to not reach out and intertwine our hands together. I hide my desire for her company by roughly sitting up, seeing my matching chained hands and feet. “Where are those damn bastards?” I say, spitting out the taste of dried blood that coats my mouth. I assess my injuries as she says, “They’re gone… for now.” 

I feel her eyes on me, but I continue to avoid them, not sure how to deal with this situation. It’s fucked. “Here, drink this.” She hands me the bottle water, which I try to push away, “Save it.” But she ignores me, unscrewing the cap and holding it out until I take it, allowing the brush of our fingertips to again remind me that she’s not a figment of my imagination. I take a short swing, making sure to save the rest for Beth. Who knows if they’ll give us more. Beth brushes a blond curl of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear before she slumps back against a tree.

“How did we get here?” She doesn’t look at me while asking; the questioned poised more at herself than at me. Her head leans against the tree, but swivels to look over at me. The picture of her now, knees hugged towards her chest, hands resting on top, sends a reel of images from when we sat on the patio of the shack, confessing our inner thoughts. Telling her things about myself that I always suppressed in the deep crevices of my mind, but willing shared with her because I trusted her, hell I wanted her to soothe away my inner turmoil. She seems to be the only on who could ever do that. 

A sudden shuffle sounds and I’m upright scooting protectively in front of Beth without hesitation. Three men stride from their camp on the opposite side of the tree line. Sloshing bottles obviously containing alcohol, drips down one’s chin as his takes a swing. Another spits to the side then takes a drag of his cigarette and they all wear matching expression of pure hatred pointedly directed at me. 

“So he awakens,” the one in the lead slurs, clearly just as drunk as the other who still chugs. I glance back at Beth who is doing quite well at keeping her demeanour leveled. But I can’t help but assess the situation and see how screwed we may be if they try anything stupid.   
But even if they come, I‘ll be damned if I let them anywhere near her. 

The three stumble over, inching closer, the tension building to a level that seems to pop as the one with a cigarette dangling from his mouth pulls it away and says, “Let’s kill him.” They all laugh, passing the bottle between each other as they finally reach us. I now recognize them as the moonlight from above illuminates their features. 

They’re the men who jumped me as they sport multiple bruised eyes and cut cheeks, notably the reasons for their apparent anger. One kneels down and I try to move more to conceal Beth, but the guy pulls a gun free from his waist strap, “Don’t move a fuckin’ inch.” He waves the gun in front of my face before pressing it against my forehead between my eyes.

He leans sideways, neck arching outwards as he looks at Beth. His eyes laze over her, his hooded gaze turning into something dangerous, lethal. I wish in that moment to crash my fist against his jaw, knocking his teeth into his gums, to pulverize him into the ground with the dirt that he is.   
“Take her.” The others move forward, flicking their cigarette and discarding the empty booze bottle over their shoulder as they stride closer to complete the demand given. Beth rustles behind me, her voice, shakes as she says, “Stop!” As they draw near and the open mouth grin on the man holding me hostage grows overconfident, I make my move. Thrusting my elbow up, I send his lower jaw to slam with the other, clamping his teeth jarringly together.

Then I push his arm to forcibly bend, making it easier for me to take the gun into my bound hands. As I do, I point it at the man, clutching his jaw growling out, “Don’t move a fuckin’ inch,” mimicking his earlier threat. I see Beth then, eyeing her to make sure they didn’t touch her. The two men are just out of reach, no guns and no longer buzzed all their attention fixates on my next move. 

I feel the sweat begin to build against the back of my neck as I command, “Let us free.” I direct my gaze at our hands and ankles, the only thing keeping us from escaping. “No.” A defiant statement, but the sweat that builds on his upper lips shows me his unease.   
“Wrong answer.” I thrust the butt of the gun against the temple of the man, who was one step too slow, then quickly shoot the gun, but aim it at the men behind me. I see Beth as she picks up a rock and smashes against the hand of the cigarette guy who tried to pull her up. He shouts out a curse, hand lashing out, but I stop him by pouncing up and using my body to knock him down. 

The other comes behind me holding me, my bound wrists chafing roughly against the ropes. A fist lands against my ribs, sending me sprawling. I hear Beth let shout, “Stop” as the two go over to her again. One takes out a knife, slicing her free from her restraints and roughly pulls her to stand. “Hey!” I yell, getting their attention as I jump up, ignoring the fact that my ankles being bound together keeps me from moving far. But it’s enough to topple heavily onto one man, bringing him down with a crack of his head against the ground, leaving him motionless. 

I see Beth take this distraction, by grabbing the knife out of the loose grip of the remaining man and doesn’t hesitate as she slashes at him. He dodges enough that I can reach out and with a forceful tug I pull him to stumble down onto his knees. I jump up on to mine matching his stance, throwing my hands over his head and pull the ropes against his neck, cutting off his airway. “Beth, go!” I yell as I struggle with the man who claws at my arms wildly, choking out empty gasps.

“I’m not gonna leave you!” Beth chimes, an ache shooting through me as another flash of memories bombard me. I watch as she quickly grabs the discarded gun and holds it at the ready. My hold remains strong and soon the man goes limp, the life sucked out of him. I push him aside; he falls to the ground littered with the other bodies. Beth runs forward, falling to her knees in front of me as she begins to cut me loose. As my hands become free, I take the knife and work on my ankle bounds. 

I focus all my attention as I saw away, feeling the twine slither and snap loose and with one last tug I’m free. “Got it.” I stand, but as I do I’m immediately frozen again. Beside Beth, gun pointed straight at her head is the leader. He has a firm grip on her bicep, holding her at an unnecessary proximity to his body and I can feel the presence of his companions lurking behind me ready to ambush me. 

The leader doesn’t say anything, just motions for me to drop the knife. I look at Beth who once again wears a steady mask of indifference. Her strength is evident and I match it while I drop the knife, putting my hands up in surrender. I think about the consequences of fighting, but I refrain. Shits in too deep now so all I can do is let them once again bind my wrists, pulling my arms painfully behind my back, one shoulder cracking from the jerk. I grunt as they force me to my knees. My hair clings to my face, covering my vision and I swipe it away to see the leader smirking. “Go.” They all leave, but he remains, still holding the goddamn gun at Beth. 

She doesn’t fight against his hold although she’s clearly uncomfortable in his grip. Her jaw clenches, working to keep from spitting out insults. Her chest heaves with her heavy breathes and her hands are tightly balled into fists. The wolf seems to note my discomfort of him with Beth. He’s watching me, waiting for me to pounce, but I stay grounded, watching just intently for his move. “That was a spectacle. You killed one of my men…” He says this casually looking down at the man who is now alone faced down in the dirt, his neck marked with my assault. The other two were carried off, still knocked out. 

“You have no idea what you’ve done.” He lets go of Beth then, pushing her aside, but somehow his movements aren’t rough, actually he seems like he was trying to not be viewed as a threat. “Please, don’t run.” He looks at her for minute assessing her body language if she’s ready to flee, but Beth stares back and says, “I’m not going anywhere without him.” Her head points in my direction and she seems very determined in her words. 

The leader eyebrow arches up, curious by her loyalty to a stranger, but doesn’t question it, just says, “Then I’ll take your word for it.” He turns towards me, taking a minute to look at the man now dead by my hands. “He wasn’t much, but he was one of us.” His eyes flicker back to Beth and I have a bad feeling about it. “You killed him. So you must die.” In a flash the gun is pointed directly at me. “No!” Beth yells, but it’s too late… the gun boom blast out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Beth and Daryl have been reunited... although not under the best circumstances. And another cliffhanger... I"M SORRY ^^' Let me know if you like the suspense or does it totally make you go crazy waiting for the next update LOL 
> 
> I'll be back soon!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took me a while to post hehe So sorry~ Being a teacher is making my life very preoccupied! But I'm back :) And to make up for the long delay I will be posting two chapters! I know, incredible! So be on the lookout for the next chapter as well! Enjoy~

I don’t think about my decision for there is a life at stake. I jump forward to smack the leaders outstretched hands to the side, hoping to God that the action will save the only shot I have to get out of this alive. The ring of the gun slices through my eardrums, the shrill echoing with a piercing chime throughout my head.

The adrenaline has my heart thumping a mile a minute and I wonder for a second if I’m going to faint. I peer over at the man, waiting to see that my efforts made things worse, yet there he is alive, only drops of blood trickle down his body instead of puddles. I let out an audible breath of relief at the sight of him minimally harmed. The bullet grazed his arm, leaving a harsh red gash on his bicep.

Before I can thank the Gods for the luck they so graciously given me, a hard grip pulls me to him. I try to fight, but then another shot sounds as he points the gun back in the direction of the man and I still my movement immediately because I don’t want to be the cause of a life being taken. “I really wish to keep you around so please don’t attempt that again.” He repeats the tight squeeze on my arms, only this time digging his nails into the flesh, making me wince back from the sharp sting.

I nod my head in an affirmation that my rebellion will no longer occur. “Good,” he states casually, dropping my arm like just a moment ago he didn’t squeeze it with the strength of a python. The wolf still holds the gun to the man and he asks, “What’s your name?” The man kneeling, looks like he wishes to keep it a secret, but then he looks over at me, answering, “Daryl.” I look at him and recite the name in my head, “Daryl”, that name suits him.

“Well, Daryl, I don’t understand why you’re still alive.” The wolf looks at me, pulling me to him, a friendly gesture that surprises me. “But it seems like Beth likes you. So I’ll have the decency to not kill you in front of her.” He finally puts the gun down, and I finally am able to relax the muscles, which were on edge in case I had to spring into action once more.

“Beth isn’t ready to see such horrors, but we’ll make her strong.” The wolf now grips both of my arms, leaning closer to me as he repeats, “We’ll make you strong, Beth.”  
“I am strong.” I retort, defensively. The wolf once again only stares like he always does when I talk back as if I’m a kid trying to convince their parent that they’re old enough to stay out with friends past their curfew. “Well, then you’ll be a wonderful addition to our pack.” He whistles and a man wanders out from their campsite, holding a rope. I moved back to my prison, while Daryl is grabbed by the man and strung to the other side of the tree so we don’t face each other.

As the leader tightens my bounds, he whispers in my ear, “Just accept fate, Beth. You are meant to be one of us.” He stands and looks over at Daryl, saying, “He will never be one of us.” I hear Daryl scoff, imagining his eyes rolling at the statement. He’s an easy book to read; even in the short amount of time, we’ve interacted. The wolf ignores him, as he leaves us, the torchlight fading into the tree line and we’re left with nothing but darkness.

“Beth…” The thick rasp of Daryl’s tired voice breaks the silence that enveloped the night. I suddenly feel exhausted. The façade I place in defiance when talking to the leader, finally able to be shed. “You alright?” The simple question makes me want to burst into tears. The fact that I’m not alone and there’s someone beside me and on my side means more to me than I could ever express to him. “Yeah, you?”

“Never better.” The silence falls once again, the only sounds of the creatures of the night as we both become lost in our thoughts. I realize the tree we’re tied to is not that big and Daryl presence is much closer than once perceived. As he shifts, my ropes also twist. If I strained my hands back, I could touch him.  
“What happened to you, Beth?” I turn my head, wishing I could view his face, the face that always displays his inner emotions with clarity. I think the only reason he could possibly ask me this question is because he cannot see me. There’s a wall still keeping us apart as if we’re in confessional with screen in between us keeping us anonymous.

“Same as you… the end of the world.” I hear him rumble out an airy laugh as he says, “Yeah, that was rough.” A hint of a smile begins to spread across my face. “It could be worse,” he adds, “We could be hostages tied to a tree.”

“I would never have expected you to be such a comedian,” I say my grin now creeping into a smile.

“Me, no. “I’m just talking so the sound of me sawing through the rope ain’t gonna reach those damn wolves super hearing.” My head swivels in much of his direction as it can as I ask, “And how did you happen to get your hands on a knife?”

“Got it off the dead guy.” I mentally imagine him shrugging as he works as if that should have been clear enough. I realize that the movements from before were not from him squirming, but from his efforts to free us.

“Talk to me, Beth.” His voice is gruff as he works at the twine, and I clear my throat, hoping the strain that talking always seems to put on my voice when I’m tired won’t give us up. I don’t realize my words until they’ve already been uttered, “I’m glad you’re here…with me.”

The shifting of the rope halts for a heartbeat before it once again moves, but slower as if he wants me to continue talking for longer. “I don’t think I would be capable of handling all this alone...” I hesitate for a breath, feeling a shyness for whatever reason, but continue through the conflicting emotions for the fact that I cannot see him gives me the courage to say what I wish, “I know about Alexandria. I know that’s where you’re from. Aaron told me about the community, convinced me to join… so I guess our meeting is sort of fate.” I give out a little chuckle for no other reason than to make the topic less serious.

At that moment the ropes snap, and I hear slight movements from his side, as he must be tossing the ropes off him to be freed. He sneaks over to me with practiced stealth, crouching down and skillfully slicing the ropes at a hasty pace. Seeing him easily freeing me makes me question what took him so long before, but before I can ask, my hands and feet are free and he pulls me up to stand. “Run”, he grabs my hand, thrusting me forward and we head away from the firelight of our capturer’s campsite.

The only sound we allow to make as we dash away is the breaths that heave out of our lungs. The terror builds the farther we get, the impending fact that we could be caught at any moment is too much to bear.

My body strains with each breath to keep up with the running of my thoughts that spews out the various outcomes that could come from trying to escape. They run faster than my body can handle. As we run, we come across a road through the tree branches. Daryl points away from the road, obviously better for us to keep ourselves concealed than out in the open. Yet, as we break through a clearing in the woods, the sight of two men stops us dead in our tracks. They both sport guns and knives on their belts. Daryl defensively moves forward without hesitation, not giving the two-armed men any chance to have the upper hand.

Daryl barrels forward knocking one head first into the trunk of a tree. The other is on him; throwing Daryl off and punching him square in the jaw. Daryl doesn’t seem to even feel the punch as he retaliates with a punch back, but he’s clearly outnumbered. I jump forward wanting to do anything to help, but he growls out, “Don’t you dare, Beth.” I hesitate to weigh my options as I helplessly watch him being slowly brought to his knees.

I can’t stand it. I drop to my knees shuffling around to find anything to substitute as a weapon. I find a stick sturdy enough to work so I grip it in my hands, and run to the man who is holding Daryl still while the other punches him. With all my strength I swing and the impact as it smacks across the guy’s head is so strong that it snaps in half. He falls to his knees, letting go of Daryl, who takes the time to quickly jump on the guy whose left his face bloody and throws him to the ground.

I’m still clutching what’s left of the branch, looking at the guy who grips his head in agony, hoping he will stay down. I glance at Daryl, taken aback by his strength. He continues to punch and kick and fight the man without seeming to tire. And even as he is beating this man to death, it’s the looks behind his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. He looks as if he doesn’t mind to end a life.

I’m so transfixed on Daryl that I realize too late that other man has shaken off my hit and is making his way towards me. My hand instinctively moves to my waist, trying to grip a weapon that isn’t there. I look down confused at my empty hand, which is enough of a distraction for the man to leap at me, gripping me by the bicep.  
As I turn my startled expression his way, I barely catch a glimpse of his glare before he strikes me hard across the face. The impact knocks me to my hands and knees landing roughly on the pebbled dirt. My cheek burning from the impact and my head sways like waves roughly against the tide. “Beth!” Daryl yells, he tries to come towards me, but the man he’s been dealing with is not giving up.

The man towering over me, reaches down once again, but I kick my leg up and knock him back just enough for me to grip a nearby rock in my hand. I try not to react to the fact his fingers brushed against my hair in his effort to pull it. I throw the rock roughly, hitting him on the forehead where blood spurts, dripping into his eye. I scramble back trying to find another weapon as he lunges. His fingers succeed this time, roughly grabbing my ponytail, but his hands are on the elastic. I take this moment to wrench myself free, the pain striking tears into my eyes as the man is left holding the elastic that held up my hair and a few strays that got caught in his grip. My hair falls over the sides of my face covering me like it’s trying to protect me from the man and another harsh slap. I wait for him to come at me again, but shouts reach me before he can. “They’re over here!”

The man towering over me stops at the voices that start to travel over to us, clearly understanding how outnumbered he is even if he had his companion. He runs into the woods without hesitation, leaving his friend behind without a glance.

I grip my cheek, as it’s numb from the hit, and feel a hand cup tenderly over mine. Daryl kneels in front of me, eyebrows clinched together in obvious worry. I carefully let go of my cheek not wanting him to think it’s serious, but his hand remains. His large palm is cool against the heat of the slap, bringing comfort I didn’t know I needed. I slowly glance to my right, the one Daryl was fighting lays still on the ground, and a rock lying in a pool of blood from the wound it inflicted on his head.

“I’m sorry.” I look back at him and the expression on his face is so broken, as he bows his head, eyes looking at the ground with remorse. Now it’s me placing my hand against his cheek. For a moment I am his comfort and I gently raise his face so it's angled up and raised high. I remove my hand from his face and I don’t speak, but instead, pull his hand from my face, interlocking our fingers so we hold hands. It’s the only gesture I feel will break through to him. Sometimes words aren’t enough. He stares at our hands and while I try to decipher his expression, his grip is pulled out of mine as a wolf yanks him away.

Daryl’s hit before he can react by one of the men, his reflexes exhausted from the fight that just ended mere moments ago. The leader comes striding forward, lips curled with disgust, and he simply kicks Daryl square in the stomach with no emotion or remorse. I shout begging for him to stop, yet he keeps going as if he can’t hear my repeated pleas. I’m being restrained and forced to look at the assault. Finally, the wolf stops, swiping his hair out of his eyes, he says, “You deserve worse.” The wolf walks over to me, taking my chin in his hand as he inspects my cheek. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.” He drops my chin and glances over his shoulder, “Pick him up.” Daryl is kneeling, slumped over, but still holding on. For someone who was just beaten, he should be unconscious from all the hits, yet he remains defiant. As if he feels my stare, his eyes lock on to mine. He breathes heavily due to his injuries, and his hooded gaze bores into me with a passion I don’t understand. Even while he’s gripped under the arms and hauled to his feet, he doesn’t break contact. “Daryl…”

“I’m sorry, Beth.”

“None of this is your fault.” It’s clear he doesn’t believe me for his expression remains shrouded in darkness. I wish to continue our previous actions of comfort, to prove to him that I would rather be a captive with him than free without.

“Why didn’t you run?”

“I told you, I’m not leaving you.” His stare stays on me even as I’m escorted away from him. Daryl tried to follow, but the men holding him keep a firm hold to restrain him. As I’m brought to the head of the pack and Daryl remains behind me, the leader draws over. I peek at him before saying, “There was another.”

“What?”

“A man, the one who hit me. He ran.” The leader immediately freezes, whistling for someone who comes on command. “Get two others and search the woods. He wasn’t alone.” The man is off, tapping two other on the arm, who follow into step with him and they all disappear as they rush back into the forest.

“Thank you for letting us know.” The wolf reaches into his pocket taking out a band-aid. “You’re bleeding.” He hands it to me before moving off to talk to someone else. Another takes his place at my side to keep me from running. I wonder if his consideration for me is sincere or if he’s just playing mind games.

I know for a fact he is not afraid of violence with the way he treats Daryl, yet he continues to show me kindness. I hear a groan and I turn to see Daryl stumble. One of the people complains, “Stop being a pussy and walk.” Daryl doesn’t pay the man any mind, just remains silent. As my attention is fixated on him, I’m pulled away so I’m left with the regret of not being able to help my one companion. 

§

 

I sit alone bored and agitated, no longer able to be near Daryl after our second attempt to escape failed. I can see him clearly though and him me. They placed him across the field, directly in my line of vision, taunting us for our rebellion.

Daryl stare feels heavy on me, but in a comfortable way, like a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, and a cup of tea pressed against my palms, bringing warmth to my body. He makes me feel safe regardless of our situation. He locks his eyes with mine, and I feel him stronger than ever. My heart doesn’t speed up, yet slows down. I feel the breath escape slowly through my separated lips with a heavy sigh. He keeps staring, warmth spreading in every limb, putting me into a trance. I’m safe, he’ll keep me safe. We stay looking at one another for less than a minute, yet it was more feeling of serenity I’ve ever felt since I woke up to my second life.

But it all vanishes as the leader kneels in front of me, breaking the tension as he breaks our eye contact, “Time to go.” He cuts me loose from the tree, but my hands remain bound to remind me of my status. “Where are we going?” I frantically look at Daryl who remains motionless amongst the many frantic bodies. “What about Daryl?”

“He’s not coming. Wave goodbye.” At his words, I fiercely pull out of his grip. “I’m not going anywhere without him.” I stand tall, ready to fight, kick and scratch to prove my point. “Tell ya what?” The wolf grabs my shoulders, before spinning me around so he stands behind me and whispers into my ear, “I’ll let you have your final goodbye.” I don’t have time to question his motives before I’m steered straight to Daryl.

Daryl has been observing the scene the entire time and he has a scowl formed on his face, pointedly directed at the head wolf. I’m forced to a stop a short distance away from him. “Go on, say goodbye.” The wolf remains at my side, not giving us the privacy we need. I vowed to never try this, but it may be the only way for us to try one more attempt at escaping. So I put on my best act as I say, “Please…” I turn to the leader, letting tears well in my eyes and my lips slightly quiver, “Please can you just give us a moment?” I stand there looking vulnerable using my innocent looks to my advantage. He looks at me with evident suspicion, yet he just sighs and steps out of earshot. I stare at him once again, not able to decipher his true identity. Did he fall for it? I will never know.

I kneel in front of Daryl who doesn’t talk until we’re inches apart. “You have to go with them.” I blink in confusion, but the strain in his voice and the seriousness in his stare indicates he means his words. I go to question his idea, but he cuts me off before I can start, “It’s the only way to give me time to escape." He once again stares at me, and I can only do the same. "I’ll come for you, Beth. I won’t let them take you far.”  
I bite my lip to keep from trying to disprove him.

“The world is over. The weak don’t survive, but you're not weak, Beth. You’ve said it yourself, you’re strong. Now prove it.” The thought of splitting up is devastating and my stomach churns with nerves at the fact I know he is right. We can’t try to escape together it’s too obvious. We need to take this chance if we have a shot at really getting out of this alive.

“Okay.” I agree with the best attitude I can muster and plaster a smile on my face. I am strong. I don’t have to rely on Daryl for everything. If I can survive a bullet to the head, I can survive this. He nods, but his eyes turn even fiercer, once again locked on me. “I’ll come for you, Beth.” I shake my head casting my eyes down and pushing my hair out of my face,” You can’t rely on anyone for anything…” I smirk to confirm I was joking, not knowing why I chose those exact words. But a joke seems better at this moment than actually saying goodbye. I stand up and look over my shoulder to the leader who notices and strides back to me.

He mimics my kneeling position and says to Daryl, “Sorry about this.” Suddenly he grabs Daryl from behind he neck and the other hand presses a cloth to his mouth in a steel grip. Daryl tries to fight, but being bound to the tree keeps him immobilized. I go to help him, my hand just touching the wolves shirt before I’m pulled up and dragged away by two members, following the group and having to watch the image of the now unconscious Daryl shrink behind the shrubbery of the woods. 

§

My head spins like I’ve just shotgunned a bottle of moonshine by the gallon. My mouth is stained with the taste of chemicals and every time I breathe through my nose, my nostrils burn. I groan awake, my eyes fluttering open with the strenuous effort. “Shit,” I grumble, the effort to even talk too much for me to bear.

The echoes of Beth’s pleads were the last thing I remember before he chloroformed me, “Bastard” I murmur, ignoring the burn of the words as they scratch at my sore throat. I instead focus on the fire exploding in my muscles as they prepare to get free from the ropes that keep me trapped.

I promised Beth I would not let her be alone for long and I’ll be damned if I break that promise. I grunt and snarl as I tug and strain at the ropes, trying every possible move to free myself. But no matter how much I struggle, the damn ropes stay intact. The sweat has built, drops falling freely into my eyes and I rapidly blink to clear them away.

As I grow more frustrated, I bang my back rapidly against the tree in punishment for taking so damn long to escape. As I do, something ruffles from above drawing me to look up to seeing something in the sunlight. I shake my bangs out of my eyes, and blink rapidly because what I see can’t be there. But with no other choice, I continue my assault on the tree and myself, with even harder hits. As I do, the object appears more and more until with one last hit it falls off the branch and just out of reach.

A knife in a sheath.

A trap, without a doubt.

The thought is there but does nothing to keep me from using my legs to try and get it towards me. Painstakingly, I inch it forward from one foot to the other. When it’s close, I groan forward, the ropes, which tightly bind my hands at the wrist, has my skin burning from the chafing. I bite my lip and ignore the ropes that also press roughly into my stomach, pulling me in the opposite direction of my target.

It’s with one last growl that rips through my gritted teeth that my fingers enclose around the object. I bring the knife to my lips, tearing the sheath off with my teeth and sawing away at my hand bounds. One by one, I pull the ropes keeping me trapped, off, the pile growing until finally I add the final rope and leap up and sprint towards trail that’ll lead me to Beth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is it that these two can never remain together?! Let's hope Daryl will catch up to Beth ASAP! Thanks for reading and being patient to my slow updates ^^ You all rock~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the next chapter! One more chapter until we're all caught up with what's been previously written so chapters will be coming in at a slower pace. Please be patient with me ^^ Anyway, Enjoy!

I track them easily, their movements careless and easy to identify in the overturned stones and ruffled leaves. But the farther I travel, the louder the nagging voice that repeats, ‘it’s a trap’ becomes too damn loud for me to pretend not to hear. Trap or not, I will get Beth. But knowing trouble could be lurkin' around the corner has me gripping the small knife with conviction. My body reacts to the absence of my bow like a phantom limb. I keep reaching back for it whenever any noise alerts my instincts. But all I have is a damn knife. 

Ahead of me, shouts echo off the barrier of trees that line the end of the forest. I immediately break out into a run, believing I may be too late, but while I draw near, I realize that one scream is actually a mix of various people’s wails. I take cover behind a tree, peeking over my shoulder, knife at the ready. What I see is a horde of wolves dead, their bodies scattered across the stretch of land in front of me. No Beth in sight. I move away from the safety of the trees, sliding myself closer to the bodies just in case… but luckily Beth’s body doesn’t litter the ground. 

It’s utter chaos in this small village of shacks that seem like they would tumble into heaps of debris from the slightest breeze. I huddle behind a bush watching as a few men I’ve never seen before hack away at the wolves like they are nothing but bugs that need to be squashed before casually disappearing into the tree line. 

Another group emerges from a house, clearly not done with the carnage as they hold a wolf in their grasp. They toss him down before one man picks up his ax and swings. I creep forward, backed hunched to keep myself out of sight of the remaining killers as I make my way from one shack to another. There are bodies littered everywhere of wolves, there W’s visible and a sign that those who have come to slay them are tough as I’ve only counted three out of the many bodies to belong to them. Three out of what seems to be countless numbers of lifeless bodies. 

My heart pumps erratically, my legs itch to sprint, to search every inch of all the houses by throwing aside furniture and crash through closed doors, to find Beth hiding somewhere under a bed, in a closet, a basement. Anywhere, just so I can get some damn relief. I don’t know what I will do if I lose her again. 

But I keep my steps patient, staying low and stealthy move into the nearest house because me ending up dead ain’t gonna help Beth survive. The first house is just one floor, scattered with little furniture pieces and the wolf that must have lived here lays on what looks like the kitchen floor, a butcher knife buried in the side of her neck, blood puddled around her corpse. 

I leave the house, feeling even more agitated as I search another house and another. No Beth. She’s nowhere and I’m feeling like I failed once again. The inner turmoil tugs roughly at my lungs, squeezing and blaming me for once again living. Where the hell is- 

I’m grabbed from the side as I go to exit a house, my guard down as my frustration grew from leaving yet again empty-handed. I’m slammed so hard into the shack, I think it might tumble over from the impact. Dust from the roof rains down into my eyes and my head swims while black blobs expand behind my eyes. I shake my head to regain my sanity and clear my vision. I throw an elbow back, missing the target but slam my other fist up, knowing he would have dodged and feel blood spurt as my fist makes contact with the person's nose.

I swing myself around so I’m facing the assailant, a man the same height as me. His eyes burn red with the fury as he looks at the blood spurting from his wound. In his rage, his hits become sloppy. With a clear head, I kick his left knee, throwing all my weight into it, and I hear his leg snap. He falls limp, his face scrunching up in agony before a scream slips through his lips. I look at him, thinking of finishing him off with my knife. 

But then the rustles sound. 

Followed by low gurgling groans. 

I throw my sweaty strands of hair out of my eyes, and see about half a dozen walkers emerge from the house I would have entered next if the man didn’t grab me. What luck. The man’s scream is what drew them out of hiding and as I turn to leave him, he starts shouting for help. Not at me, but for his comrades. But as I turn a corner, his screams turn to wails and I know there’s no saving him now. 

With his screams melded into the groans of the dead, I continue on. There’s not much of the territory to search, making me think the worst. Where are you, Beth? I chant her name in my head as if that’ll lead me to her. But when I round the corner, I’m met with the slumped body of the wolf leader. I step into his view, which draws his head up slowly. His eyes are rimmed red, matching the blood that spills into puddles around him from his abdomen. “You-“ He releases a hacking cough, blood pouring from his mouth and drawing more from his wound. 

I hold up the knife that I found in the tree. Wanting questions, but first I ask, “Where is she?” He tries to sit up more, but the effort is too much and he slumps even farther down. 

“She’s fine. She escaped.” I release a breath, a huff of air that draws out in a little shudder. “She’ll be up the trail, two miles from here…” His head nods in the direction behind him. He seems like he wants to say more, but his body doesn’t even have enough energy to speak. 

I just nod and go to leave, but I stop when he says, “Keep her safe… She’s our only…” The leader wolf takes one last shuttering breath, the last word being lost in the exhale, his eyes dimming and his pupils enlarge to dark pits, mouth agape. I look at him for a minute, wondering what was lost in translation, before the moans of walkers draw me out of my reverie and I make my way up the path the wolf indicated as the one that’ll lead me to Beth. 

-§-

There wasn’t much that made sense to me anymore. I did and tried and continued over every obstacle, but it’s never enough. I’m always barely across the finish line, always gasping for the air that was almost my last. Nothing is easy anymore. Living isn't easy anymore. But here I am. Once again alive and well and I don’t understand why I continue to end up alive while others die. 

I sit in a shed, my back leaning again a pack, filled with just enough to keep me alive for a few days. And a crossbow I don’t even know how to use. I look up to see the sun is beginning to set like it does every day, but today isn’t like everyday. Today, I’m alone. The wolves may not have been the people I would have ever wanted to be with, but they were there to help Daryl find me. He’s going to see them massacred and think I am too. 

I think back to Morgan and his every glowing positivity. He would tell me how strong I am. I’m here because I fought. I have to keep going to see where I’m meant to be. I wonder where he is now if he even misses me. I chuckle to myself, knowing for sure he would scold me for even thinking he wouldn’t. Then I think of Daryl and how he treated me upon first meeting. He trusted in Morgan and believed in me too. I like to even think, in our short time of being prisoners together, that he sees us as a sort of team…

I abruptly stand, done pouting, the shock wearing off as I considered my options. I can stay here huddled in the dark, waiting to run out of food and die or find the one person who can help me survive. I haul the pack onto my shoulders and make my way out of the shed, retracing my steps down the path back towards the encampment. 

Please, please let me not be too late. With each step, I think of the worse case scenario. The men are still there, ransacking the place, looking for any survivors and finishing them off. Or, the men are long gone, but in their place are now a horde of walkers lingering around the place and singling Daryl to move on. Neither is exactly what I would say to be ideal scenarios, but I have no other option. Daryl is my only hope of finding Alexandria, to living a normal life. He has to be there he has…

I snap my head up as I hear the heavy pants of breathing and feet hitting the dirt. Too fast for a walker, I think, pulling the knife the leader gave me before telling me to leave him. I grip the hilt tightly, putting my pack down and the large crossbow so they don’t weigh me down and brace my feet in a fighting stance. I’m tired of running, and the sound of the feet is only one set. I can beat them. 

I intently stare at the corner of the trail and as a body rounds the turn, I place the knife up and run, not wanting to give them any type of chance to take me down. Surprise is on my side. I barrel into them hard and fast, knocking them straight off their feet and they land on their back, a sharp intake of an inhale gasps through the man’s lips, his lungs attempting to suck in air after having it knocked out of him. 

I sit straddling the man, and I bring up the knife to his throat, tossing my hair out of my view before I go to strike. 

Daryl looks up at me, still as can be. He’s not breathing but continues to stare like I’m actually going to murder him. I drop the knife immediately and frantically say, “Daryl, breathe.” He doesn’t, just continues to look… look shocked. Before I can think of how stupid this is I bring my lips to his. Breathing, I fill his lungs with my breath, slowly, I feel him begin to respond. My hands that rest on his chest, are lifted as he inhales, and his mouth begins to work with mine, his hands lifting to my hips... I yank away, still straddling him as I breathlessly say, “Did you just…? I question, really unsure if he was expecting me to avoid the fact that he just kissed me. 

He has the decency to look embarrassed before he clears his throat and his eyes trail over me still straddling his hips. I practically launch myself into the sky (honestly hoping the hit the sun to burn this memory out of my mind), whipping myself off of him and grab the knife, while avoiding eye contact and obscuring my pink cheeks with my hair. “You came.” I don’t know what else to say, and keep my eyes downcast from his. But I feel him watching my every move as I go to retrieve the pack. “Said I would.” His clear statement makes me finally lift my head look at him. 

“Thanks.” Silence emanates through the still, humid air. The cicadas aggressively loud amongst our muted communication as our eyes seem to be doing all the talking for both of us. 

Daryl shakes off the dirt that clung on to him as a tossed him to the ground. “You were going back.” He states, eyes knit in a bundle of confusion as he tries to understand. 

“I was going back for you. To find you,” I emphasize, not really sure why I feel like I needed to. His stare pierces into me and I wonder for a second if he thinks he’s being subtle. I smile to myself, before I remember, “Oh! The leader said this was yours. “I push aside the pack to pick up the crossbow that was hidden under it. 

His stare takes a moment to break away from my face, but when it does, I feel myself hitch in a breath of surprise. His eyes soften and a glow seems to radiate off his now straight spine and fingers the reflexively reach forward. For a second I think he was going to smile, but he just slowly steps to where I am, gently taking the bow out of my grip. His fingers brush mine, and a flash of us holding it together appears in my mind. I ignore it, wondering why such a thought would form in my mind. 

Before I can think about it too much I say, “Let’s go to Alexandria.” 

-§-

The moment Beth’s body landed on top of mine, I didn’t know how to process it. My brain shut down along with my lungs after the wind got knocked out of me from her blow. She may be tiny, but she can pack a powerful punch when she wants. 

But she came back. She came back for me and it wasn’t my imagination playing tricks; she said it herself. Seeing her looking down at me, even with the knife on my neck and pushing enough to draw blood, I thought there could be no better way to die. I felt like I was dead, as my lungs wouldn’t work. I could only look at her, feel her weight on me, her breath on my face, her stare of surprise when she realized it was me. Her worry as she realized I wasn’t breathing. 

Her lips…

I shake my head, trying to not picture the image of her lips as they pressed against mine. They were slightly chapped, but still soft to the touch…

God dammit. 

I reach into my back pocket. I clench the cigarette pack in my pocket, itching to pull one out, but I don’t. It won’t do no good at keepin’ the thoughts at bay. I look over at Beth who sits huddled next to a fire she built, staring into the flames without really seeing, lost in thought. I wish to know what keeps her silent and absentmindedly playing with the many bracelets on her wrist. 

We walked back in the direction as far as we could before it was too dark to continue. I hunted on the way, not wanting to leave Beth’s side when we made camp. We ate in silence, neither of us knowing what to say or where to begin after all that we’ve experienced today. 

But as she remains sitting in silence, I see the Beth I never hoped to see. She’s hurting. I can tell that much from her body language, as her back is hunched, knees drawn to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her legs with her head resting on her forearms. I want to get her out of her head. Thoughts can kill and I’ll be damned in I let them suffocate her. I know what you’re capable of, I think, my eyes once again flitting towards her bracelets that cover the entirety of her wrist, concealing the sliver of a scar. 

I walk over to her, sighing as I place my bow on the ground, before sitting myself across from her. My movement draws her back into herself, as she sits up straight pulling her hands back and leaning on them as she takes a deep breath in, eyes shut, head thrown back. I watch her as she just breathes, seeming like she needs the moment to clear her head. 

“What’s it like?” Her eyes remain closed for a moment before she lifts her head up to look at me, “Alexandria? What’s it like?” Her eyes cast the glow of the fire, her hair is a mess of tangles framing her face. She waits for an answer, and I have to clear my throat before I can speak, “Like how it used to be. Normal.” I shrug, bringing my hand up to my lips, to tug on a piece of tough skin near my thumbnail. A nervous habit I didn’t know I had until I was once again near Beth. 

She nods, bringing her arms back up to hook around her legs. “Sounds weird.” She smiles, and I let out a grunt in agreement. “Thanks for sticking around, Daryl. You didn’t have to.” Her sincerity is shown in her stare, her eyes upturned along with her wide smile. I want to drink her in, keep my eyes locked on her, to memorize her smile, to brush back to the mass of curls away from her face so I can fully observe her. But instead, I just nod, saying, “Get some sleep.” Her smile dims and she pushes her pack near her and lies down, her head resting on the bag. 

“Goodnight, Daryl.” 

“Goodnight, Beth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love a flustered Daryl? I know I do haha Thanks for sticking with me and if you liked this chapter, let me know with a comment! See you all again with the next chapter!


End file.
